“Of Avians and Indigenes”: Preliminary Notes on the Orientalization of the New World Native and Natured Others Thomas C
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Literature Compass 1 (2004) AM 054, 1–17 “Of Avians and Indigenes”: Preliminary Notes on the Orientalization of the New World Native and Natured Others Thomas C. Gannon University of Nebraska–Lincoln Abstract “Of Avians and Indigenes” combines colonial discourse theory and ecocriticism to demonstrate how the New World bird and the New World “Indian” have been similarly othered in the discourse of Western imperialism. As a result, the Passenger Pigeon and many Native American tribes have suffered a similar fate: extinction. But via the ironic co-evolutionary history of the native House Finch and the introduced English Sparrow – and spanning American literature from John James Audubon to Joy Harjo – the author offers a Native reading of this colonization, through which both avians and indigenes “speak back” against the onslaught of Euro-American ideology, as a veritable “return of the Native.” My bird is a genuine little savage, doubtless, but I value him as a neighbor. [Nature] is an Indian maiden, dark, subtle, dreaming, with glances now and then that thrill the wild blood in one’s veins. – John Burroughs1 [R]econsider Indian history. Whites were advancing not only on the Indians but on the chickadees listening, the bird unconcerned, the deer scratching. – William Bevis2 In one of the first books by a Lakota, Land of the Spotted Eagle (1933), Luther Standing Bear’s titular homeland is appropriately dubbed that of the “Spotted Eagle,” not that of his human Oglala tribe – to reflect, no doubt, “the Lakota belief that man did not occupy a special place in the eyes of Wakan Tanka, the Grandfather of us all,” that both humans and birds were oyate, or “people.” Standing Bear later finds another parallel between Native Americans and other species in terms of the European settlers’ attitude towards both: “Only to the white man was nature a ‘wilderness’ and only to him was the land ‘infested’ with ‘wild’ animals and ‘savage’ people.” And such infestations needed to be removed: I know of no species of plant, bird, or animal that were [sic] exterminated until the coming of the white man. The white man considered natural animal life upon this continent, as “pests.” Plants which the Indian found beneficial © Blackwell Publishing 2004 2 Orientalization of the New World Native and Natured Others were also “pests.” There is no word in the Lakota vocabulary with the English meaning of this word.3 It is no surprise, then, that bird species such as the Passenger Pigeon and many human Native tribes have met the same fate at the hands of European expansionism – extinction – and that the remaining Native tribes, like the buffalo, have just barely avoided a similar end. Standing Bear’s Lakota contemporary, Black Elk, notes another avian-Native similarity, with similar tragic ramifications: “Our tepees were round like the nests of birds,” which were set “in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. But the Washicus [whites] have put us in these square boxes,” and so “the power is not in us any more.”4 Certainly, most Native American worldviews themselves entail an ideology of familial alliance with birds, a consideration crucial to any discussion of the subject. For instance, the traditional Lakota faith in the close relation of the human tribe to such birds as the Golden Eagle and the Western Meadowlark, and the many claims of actual interspecies conversation, especially during vision quests, may be seen, on first sight, as the same conflation of the animal and the Indian performed by colonial ideology. However, the originating worldviews and, just as importantly, the result- ing cultural lifestyles are vastly different. The Euro-American attitude is one of belittlement, distance, and difference; the Native attitude, one of kinship and positive regard. And while I might not be able to make any claims for the literal truth of talking birds that would make sense in this academic context, I can appeal to sheer pragmatism and ask, with Lawrence Buell, which approach to “nature” and the animal is more conducive to biodiversity and at last to the ecological viability of our planet: If like Thoreau one imagines animals as neighbors; if like Muir or traditional Native Americans one imagines life-forms as plant people, sun youths, or grandmother spiders, then the killing of flies becomes as objectionable as the killing of humans.5 But it is the fact that both feathered beings and feather-wearers have long been othered as comparable objects in Western colonial-imperialist discourse that I want to address in some detail. Historically, the English language itself offers further lamentable correlatives. Both Others, for example, have been deemed close kin (for far different reasons), as “tribes” fit for “reservations”: by both poets and ornithologists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, birds were often referred to as the “(feathered) tribes”;6 and in the early twentieth century, bird reserves were also called “Reservations.”7 According to Deep Ecologist Paul Shepard, “Enclaves [such as zoos] ‘protect’ the defeated [animals], as they did American Indians, by assigning them to reservations and then eliminating them outside the sanctuary.”8 At last, in Western discourse, the animal is framed through the bars of the “zoo,” as it were; the Indian, through the borders of the “reservation.” and thus the ostensible peculiarity of my article’s title, which would appropriate both © Blackwell Publishing 2004 Literature Compass 1 (2004) AM 054, 1–17 Orientalization of the New World Native and Natured Others 3 “nature” and “native” as its subject matter. For, in much of nineteenth- century American literature, the “native” is “nature” – wild, and in the raw; and to refer to the bird as “native” – as in Burroughs’s “genuine little savage” – is hardly a greater leap, given its intrinsic animal relationship to the very land and (above all, for my purposes) the long Western cultural conflation of Indians and birds that is my gist, epitomized in the eagle feather of popular iconography, and in the words of Black Elk himself: The life of an Indian is just like the wings of the air. The hawk swoops down on its prey; so does the Indian. In his lament he is like an animal. For instance, the coyote is sly; so is the Indian. The eagle is the same. This is why the Indian is always feathered up; he is a relative to the wings of the air.9 But again, this positive identification, from a different, indigenous worldview, plays against the backdrop of the Western demonization of such species as the raven and the wolf – and the human “primitive” and indigenous native: “genuine savages,” all. Indeed, earlier cultures’ “super- stitious” awe of the avian and the animal positions such people firmly in the same “bestial” realm. And if not ostracized as “animal,” both are conversely idealized as “spiritual,” as abundantly evidenced in the imagery and metaphors of the Western literary canon. The bird is incorrigibly either some etherealized skylark or oriole, or some chthonic owl or raven; so, too, the Western imagination can only “see” the Indian as a heathen- savage id, a Jungian shadow figure – or, in typical bipolar fashion, as a nostalgically redemptive “Noble Savage.”10 This is one of the dominant themes of Frantz Fanon, who finds a Western conflation of shadow figures that include “the Wolf, the Devil, the Evil Spirit, the Bad Man, [and] the Savage.”11 The raven and crow can easily be added to this abbreviated list of villains, as “infernal” confreres of the devil, and the savage. In North America in particular, the wolf and raven are – or should I say, were – often partners, in both myth and reality. In her essay, “Deify the Wolf,” Chickasaw writer Linda Hogan also acknowledges “the psychological fact that wolves carry much of the human shadow,” and in describing her animal subject, she notes that the wolves she is watching are accompanied by a group of “gypsy ravens,” who are “thought to direct the wolves to their prey,” to partake in the leftovers; and sometimes, “a person happens across a coal black raven standing inside the wide arch of those ribs like a soul in a body.”12 This dark avian spirit of death, then, is another shadow image in Hogan’s essay, although, as a Native American and champion of eco-awareness, Hogan refuses to vilify either wolf or raven: they are simply there, fulfilling their roles in nature, and the truly fearful things are humankind’s untoward projections regarding them. It is fitting, too, that Hogan, as Native American, would defend and resignify these alter-species shadows: like the wolf, raven, and the human of Fanon’s Black Skin, the Native American has long been an unwilling bearer of the Western collective shadow. © Blackwell Publishing 2004 Literature Compass 1 (2004) AM 054, 1–17 4 Orientalization of the New World Native and Natured Others This Western “shadow,” of course, immediately calls to mind Edward Said’s formulation of the discourse of “Orientalism.”13 It is readily apparent that Said’s general ideology of othering inherent in the very concept of “Orientalism” is equally applicable to the central ideological framing device of the New World, the Euro-American imperialism and colonialism regarding the indigenous here – both human and non-human. The correlative New World version of Said’s Foucaultian notion might readily be dubbed “Indianism” – all the more happily, given the Orientalism still ironically implicit in the very origins of the word.14 The general discourse of othering non-humans as “lower” life forms fit for exploitation has already been aptly defined as speciesism,15 and my own contribution to this line of thought is to emphasize how crucial – and yet largely ignored – this lamentable Orientalizing of other species has been to the ecology and biodiversity of the planet.